Buzz Buzz
by Rorke's Drift
Summary: Nathan Ford is an opportunistic bastard. And he will use members of his crew in any way necessary to get the job done. An episode tag of sorts for The Rundown Job and The Frame-Up Job, but there should not be any material spoilers for either episode.


_Author's note and disclaimers: 1) I still do not own the Leverage characters (but I do enjoy borrowing them for entertainment purposes!); 2) any resemblance between people or events in this story and people or events in real life are coincidental – it is a work of fiction; 3) this story is not meant as political commentary on U.S. military aid policies...I needed a context and found one in the article at this link (actually, I can't get the link to work here__...just Google "Why U.S. must do more to combat use of child soldiers" if you want to read it); 4) un-betaed, so all the mistakes are mine (I know: I am a horrible typist, a worse proofreader, and I am pretty sure I spell funny and/or use weird terminology regardless of which side of the Atlantic you live on these days...just go with it: I do); and, finally, 5) this story was apparently inspired by a line I could have sworn was in one of the Leverage episodes about "three world leaders changing their travel plans solely on the information that Eliot Spencer was going to be in town" but that it turns out I may have imagined. I decided to write it anyway. :)_

_Thanks as always for reading – and I would love to know what you think!_

_Edited to add: I am not imagining things! Twilight Dusk and Theshoegirl have between them identified my phantom line as ""I hear three foreign presidents choppered out when they heard," which comes from the DVD/Netflix version of The Rundown Job...I happened to watch a re-run of the tv version of the episode the other day (in which the line is omitted), which threw me off._

* * *

Caller ID shows the incoming call is from a blocked number.

Nate seriously considers not answering. But the last time he did that, it turned out to be Eliot calling from his "other" phone because that was the one still working after he and Parker took an unscheduled dip in a river during a job doing its best to go wrong. Certain critical bits of Nate's anatomy twitch at the memory of Eliot's threats of what would happen if he ever failed to pick up again. The fact that those threats had been made by a slightly damp and muddy Eliot, missing a shoe, and with a headful of wild, woolly curls when he had shown up on Nate's doorstep hours later, had had Nate's lips and eyebrows twitching in an agony of amusement as he stuttered out an apology, but had in no way detracted from their credibility.

Besides, the other half of the team is on the other side of the country, and has just taken out a terrorist (albeit of the obsessed scientist variety) armed with a deadly virus, a gun, and a landmine, among other fun explosive devices.

Nate pushes the "talk" button.

"I don't recognise this number," he says, letting just a tinge of annoyance layer his voice. "There had better be a good reason I'm talking to you."

It's almost a question – but could, if you knew him, be a warning. And, by rights, it should be followed by a pause during which the caller realised that there shouldn't be a number for Nate to recognise.

It isn't.

"Mr. Ford?" a colourless voice at the other end of the line inquires.

"That depends on who's asking," Nate replies, but he sits up a little straighter.

"Please hold for the Secretary of State," the voice intones.

That gets Nate's attention. The voice disappears before he can make any response, and is replaced immediately by one Nate recognises immediately from years' worth of political ads, campaigns, and speeches.

"Mr. Ford," the new voice greets him.

"Madam Secretary," Nate greets her. "To what do I owe this...pleasure?"

"I'll get straight to the point, Mr. Ford," the voice replies. "I hear that you are the man calling the shots where Eliot Spencer is concerned these days."

Nate hesitates.

"We have worked together," he concedes, cautiously.

"I see," the voice sounds momentarily amused. That levity disappears, however, with the next sentence. "Well, Mr. Ford, I was hoping we could come to some sort of ... accommodation ... regarding Mr. Spencer's activities."

The words drip like cold acid down Nate's spine.

"Accommodation?" he repeats.

"Yes," the voice continues calmly. "I am aware of the actions you and your colleagues have engaged in, in recent years. And while I cannot, of course, condone illegal activity, I have been prepared to look the other way to the extent that you do not interfere with state business."

"I see," Nate says slowly.

"Do you, Mr. Ford?" the voice asks.

"I think so," he replies. "But perhaps you could elaborate, just to be sure."

"Indeed."

There is a brief pause and the sound of shuffling paper at the other end of the line.

"I had a meeting scheduled this morning with representatives from the Syrian National Congress, and another one with the Yemeni Foreign Minister, but their travel plans all changed abruptly yesterday when they heard that Mr. Spencer was in town."

The voice pauses, as if inviting Nate to comment. The hairs on the back of his neck consider lying back down, but he remains silent, and the voice continues.

"Last month, it was the Ukrainian Foreign Minister. Back in January it was a trade delegation from China, and the year before that the Colombians and the Chileans. Heavens, back in 2009 even the Swedes changed their travel plans when Mr. Spencer came to town."

"Mmmn," Nate says, all traces of acid erased by a wave of hilarity at the thought that all the plans and machinations to which he has devoted substantial time and effort over the past four years may be dwarfed by the scope of actions he hadn't been aware of inadvertently sending into play.

"Now, I don't know exactly what purpose you had in disrupting these meetings," the voice goes on with careful patience, "but I would very much appreciate being able to reschedule today's meeting for, say, next week?, secure in the knowledge that Mr. Spencer will be occupied somewhere other than D.C."

"I see," Nate says, again. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. Let word of a small talent for strategy and manipulation get around, and suddenly you're at the centre of every global conspiracy – real or imagined.

Instead, Nate reaches for his laptop. While his internet research skills may not rival Hardison's techno-magic, he is certainly not incompetent – and something in that list of interferences the Secretary of State reeled off is tickling his brain. International affairs of state aren't normally high on his list of target areas of injustice – although it is certainly worth knowing that the Secretary of State seems to think they are...and it may be worth investigating just where they fall on Eliot's list of priorities – but he is hardly one to pass up a chance to apply a little opportunistic leverage on a larger stage. He follows one more link and – yes, there it is.

"Well, Madam Secretary," he says, taking his time. "As you said, perhaps an accommodation can be reached..."

It is a somewhat circular conversation, but when Nate hangs up the phone, it has been agreed that Eliot will find himself very busy on the West Coast for the next week and a half, while the Secretary of State's negotiations with the Yemeni representatives will include a curtailment of military aid.

"Does Eliot know you've been taking his name in vain to manipulate foreign policy like this?" Sophie asks from where she'd been listening to Nate's side of the second half of the conversation. Her words are playful, but her eyes show genuine concern about such a breach of trust within the team.

Nate turns his laptop so that she can see the report on how U.S. military aid and routine waivers of application of the Child Soldier Prevention Act of 2008 is keeping guns in the hands of children in various war-torn countries around the world.

"I don't think he would mind in this case," he says softly.

* * *

_The End._

* * *

_PS. This one was meant to be funny (mostly). I'm not sure it ended up that way, but if you found yourself giggling, I am inordinately pleased. :D_


End file.
